


Robin Egg Blue

by metaphoricheart



Series: Robin'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Curtain Fic, Gen, Hunter Retirement, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Librarian Sam, Mechanic Dean, Mental Health Issues, Nearly Human Castiel, Other, Post-Hell Dean, Post-Hell Sam, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Queerplatonic Relationships, queerplatonic life partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricheart/pseuds/metaphoricheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and Cas have retired as queerplatonic life partners in Bumfuck, PA. With the three of them having multiple issues and health problems, they struggle to create a life together. But Dean will close his eyes at night, and think "this is good". Sam will snuggle closer to Dean. Cas will feel what he thinks is called contentment settle in his chest. And they sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robin Egg Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on AO3 and for Supernatural. I'm hoping to turn this into a verse. I know this isn't entirely original, but curtain fics are my favourite.

_"A good heart will find you, just be ready then_

_Tethered to a bird of sorrow_  
_A voice that's buried in the hollow_  
_You've given over to self-deceivin'_  
_Your prostrate bowed would not be leavin'_  
_You've squandered more than you could borrow_  
_You've bet your joys on all tomorrows_  
_For the hope of some returnin'_  
_While everything around just burnin'_

 _Come on, we gotta get out, get out of this mess we made_  
_And still for all our talk, we're both so afraid_  
_Well will we leave this up to chance, like we do everything?_  
_Love is gonna find us again_  
_Love is gonna find us, we gotta be ready then_

 _But I'm not leavin' you yet"_  
_\--Bird of Sorrow, Glen Hansard_

Sam had woken up quiet this morning. Quiet, withdrawn, and slow. He had pulled on his jeans and the faded Harry Potter t-shirt Dean had found for him at the local GoodWill. At least he had gotten dressed without prompting. Dean took that as a somewhat positive sign. During their first week in Bumfuck, Pennsylvania Sam and Dean had flipped through the tv channels, and ended up watching the first movie in the series.

_“That was dumb,” Dean said as soon as the credits rolled._   
_Sam grinned at him. “I’m pretty sure your rapt attention to the screen for the last two and a half hours had nothing to do with finding the plot interesting…you liked it.”_   
_Dean glared at him and swatted his brother’s arm but didn’t deny what Sam had said either._   
_“I think I want to read the books,” Sam said thoughtfully. He pulled his laptop from the coffee table. After some searching he announced, “There’s seven. Some of them are pretty long. Looks doable though.”_   
_“Of course it looks doable for you, you dumbass, you’re a geek,” Dean shot back._   
_The next day Sam had gone to the library, and picked up the first book. He had finished it within the day. That night, Dean had woken up screaming with nightmares. Sam pulled the book off the nightstand, and began to read aloud to Dean until the sun came up. Sam’s voice was hoarse the next day, and he had a migraine. But he had softly told Dean it was worth it._   
_So they finished the series with each other. Taking turns reading out loud to each other, or if they were too tired, they allowed Jim Dale to read from the audiobook they took out of the library. It had gotten them through the first two weeks of transitioning into a life they were not sure they could figure out how to live, like an easy anchor to normal._

Dean sipped his coffee and watched Sam from the window of what Sam had dubbed “The Heinous Kitchen”. It was black, white, and red diner tiled. The countertops were chrome. Cas had agreed that the previous owner’s taste was “quite atrocious” but Dean had declared he liked it. Cas and Sam had exchanged a look, and both swallowed back any ideas about remodeling. The kitchen became something to make fun of, another layer in their new life. Sam and Cas’s distaste, another texture. But it remained unchanged.

Dean drained what was left of his coffee, ran the mug under the sink, dumped out the water, and set it down on the counter. He slipped on his sandals, and went out the backdoor to join Sam.

Sam was sitting in the grass crossed legged, looking out at the section of the creek that ran behind their house. He was also barefoot.

Dean cleared his throat to let Sam know that he was there, and plopped down next to Sam.

“You should have shoes on,” Dean pointed out. The last owners had been fond of partying, and they hadn’t quite found all the shards of glass from alcohol bottles yet, even though they’d been living in the house for a little over a month.

Sam shrugged, but kept staring out into the distance of the creek. Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was really seeing it. “Grass has a nice texture.”

Dean scanned his surrounding area for glass, and then ran his hands over the grass, humming his agreement. “Until this place is glass free, shoes, ok?”

Sam didn’t say anything. He was now rubbing his left hand with his right thumb. Dean’s eyebrows creased, adding that to the inventory of “the state of Sam today” catalog.

Dean spoke a little louder, and more firmly. “Sam, shoes when you go outside, got it?”

Sam jerked his head towards Dean, his eyes slightly clouded. “Uh, yeah...yeah, got it. Sorry.”

Dean smiled an “it’s ok”, to Sam. Sam’s gaze shifted from the creek to the canopy of the trees above him. Sam tilted his head, and frowned slightly.

“Wish I could draw,” Sam murmured. “The sun on the leaves...’s pretty. Wanna keep it forever.”

Dean scooted closer to Sam. When his brother didn’t flinch, he tentatively put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam closed his eyes and leant slightly into Dean’s touch. Dean squeezed his shoulder.

“Maybe you should ask Cas, to teach ya.”

Sam thought for a few minutes. “Yeah….yeah that’s a good idea.” Sam turned his face back towards Deans and quirked a smile. “Thanks, Dean.”

“He should be back from his interview for the arts coordinator position at that Daycare down the road soon,” Dean supplied in response. “You can ask him at lunch.”

Sam nodded, and rubbed his eyes with his fists like a small child.

“How are you doing, Sammy?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam dropped his hands. “‘Mm tired. M’ feelin’ spacey”.

Dean nodded, added that to the catalog. This was Sam most days now though, but there was still something off.

“It seems like you didn’t wake up feelin’ too good today,” Dean hedged.

Sam shrugged. “‘’Isnot that bad. Just feelin’ grey around the edges, is all.”

Dean paused. Sam had a hard time articulating what was going on inside his head in language that Dean could understand. “What do you mean, Sam?”

Sam shrugged again. “Don’t know how to explain it, sorry.” Sam said tiredly.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean said softly. “I think...I think you’re trying to say that today just feels a bit off, but it’s not that bad?”

Sam blew out a breath. “Yeah, that’s something like it.”

“I’m sorry, Sammy. We’ll be seein’ that specialist doctor in the city soon.” Dean tried to say it will get better, without making any actual promises. He knew he may not be able to keep them.

Sam looked over to Dean again and stared until Dean was looking at him quizzically in the eyes. Sam’s eyes had cleared a bit.  
“It’s ok, De. You can’t control waiting lists. You’re...we’re...doing our best. Or trying.”

Dean nodded. “Thanks.”

After a few beats of silence Dean spoke up again. “How about we go back inside? You can rest. I’ll read to you or something.”

Sam got up in response, and slowly started walking towards the house. Dean slowly followed behind him, and nearly bumped into his brother when Sam stopped.

Crouching down, Sam suddenly exclaimed at a volume he hadn’t used in days, “Dean, look at this!”

“Look at what?” Dean moved around Sam and crouched beside him. “What, Sam?”

Sam splayed his palm in front of Dean. A cracked open robin’s egg laid in the middle, getting swallowed by the size of Sam’s palm.

“They hatched!” Sam explained at Dean’s confused look. Sam sighed. “It’s a beautiful colour. I’d like to paint the living room this colour.”

Dean was confused, it’s not like Sam had never seen a robin’s egg before. But if it made Sam happy, what did it matter? “Yeah, sure, we can look into that.”

Sam grinned in response. “It reminds me of you.”

Dean scoffed. “A cracked robin’s egg reminds you of me? Gee, thanks Sammy.”

Sam stood up. Dean followed, his legs creaking the whole way up. “No, Dean the colour reminds me of you. It’s electric and strong, but calming all the same. Like you.”

Dean broke Sam’s eye contact, and swallowed against the lump in his throat. Dean didn’t know where Sam came up with this shit. Just a few minutes ago Sam had been sitting spacey as anything, and here he was babbling about how Dean was the colour was robin egg blue. Like this was some fucking poem. Dean shook his head, and began walking towards the house again.

“Come on, bitch.”


End file.
